


Scenes from a Bodyguard AU

by melonpaan



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII (Video Game 1997), Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: AU, Childhood friends to mutual pining, F/M, Gen, Hoo fucking boy, No beta blame only me, Somehow way more UST than expected, The Anything Goes School of Kisaragi Arts, The U is never going away sry Cloud, Tifa’s the bodyguard btw, chaotic bisexual idol energy, guess this is no longer a throwaway AU, some underage drinking but its just Corel wine, they’re all idiots your honor, water tower rendezvous
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 07:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,909
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25709668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonpaan/pseuds/melonpaan
Summary: “I hate this.”“You said you liked it!”Well, when Tifa Lockhart shows up in a maid outfit, splays her arms out and asks “Do you like?” what is hesupposed to fucking say?+++3: SCANDAL: IDOL A’S FAN MEETS NASTY FATE WITH UMBRELLA!!!Scenes from a bodyguard AU.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough & Tifa Lockhart, Tifa Lockhart/Cloud Strife, Zack Fair/Aerith Gainsborough
Comments: 22
Kudos: 84
Collections: CloTi Fall Festival 2020 (ClotiWeek)





	1. bodyguard

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dreamfighter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreamfighter/gifts).



> This...was supposed to be a throwaway AU... /sobs

“This seems like a bad idea,” Tifa says, eyebrows furrowed and mouth puckered as she crosses her arms over her chest.

Cloud matches her stance with a frown. Sure, he expected she would feel this way, but it’s a solid idea. Or, well, it’s the only one he’s got. “Look, this is the only lead I’ve gotten on the company leaks. Don Corneo is at the center of it and this party he’s throwing is my best chance of getting some info.”

“So I’ll come with you.”

“No.” Tifa juts her lower lip out in a very adorable pout and it takes everything he has to drag his eyes away from it. “It’ll be dangerous.”

She raises an eyebrow as if to say, _you know I’m your bodyguard._ “You know I’m your—”

“Dangerous _for_ you.” Cloud sighs and lets his arms drop to his sides. “Please, Tifa. You know what kind of man Corneo is—and you know what kind of parties he throws. They won’t bat an eyelash at me, but you—I don’t want to put you through that.”

“You think they won’t bat an eyelash at the head of Strife Inc. attending Don Coreno’s illicit hullabaloo knowing that he’s profiting off the very leaks that have been hemorrhaging your company?”

He never said it was a _good_ idea. “I’ll wear glasses?”

Tifa sighs and takes a step forward and he knows she’s going to reach for his hand, hold it between both of hers and stare him down with her gorgeous wine-deep eyes until he caves because it always works and he always does, so he turns his back on her and recrosses his arms.

“I’m going alone and that’s final. You can’t stop me.” He takes a step forward to end the conversation before he loses his nerve, but his feet never hit the ground. He wriggles pathetically in the air as Tifa’s hands at his waist keep him completely aloft. He huffs. “Okay, you can stop me.” She chuckles. “But I’m still not letting you come.”

“I don’t like the idea of you going in there alone.” Her voice drops low and he can hear the worry in it. She places him gently on the ground but her hands remain curled on his waist, leans in so her forehead rests against his shoulder blades and the warmth of her breath against his back makes his heart stutter. “At least let me ask Zack to back you up.”

“I already called him—said he’s busy.”

“Oh, that’s right. He’s up in the mountains at some luxury Onsen with Aerith. She was so excited for—” Her head snaps up and she spins him around to grace him with a familiar toothy grin.

“Oh no.”

“What?”

“I don’t like that grin of yours.” He loves it, but that’s beside the point.

She grins wider at that. “I think I have an idea. And if you don’t like it, I won’t go.”

+++

“I hate this.”

“You said you liked it!”

Well, when Tifa Lockhart shows up in a maid outfit, splays her arms out and asks “Do you like?” what is he _supposed to fucking say_?

“Why does Aerith even own a maid costume?” He’s not staring. He’s _not_. But also Tifa is driving right now so she won’t notice if his eyes stray toward the corested black bodice of her costume sitting snug under the low-cut, ruffled white top. The layered, puffy and very short skirt of the dress is also absolutely unfair as it hitches every time she breaks, revealing the barest sliver of skin and the tops of her white thigh-high tights that have tiny black bows sewn onto the hems.

“Haven’t you ever been to one of her concerts?”

“Nope. She sends all the DVDs to my mom though.”

“You’re missing out.” Tifa laughs warmly and flicks one of her pigtails off her shoulder as she takes a right turn. Because of course she did her hair in pigtails to finish him off completely.

“Not interested.” He really wants to tug on the end of a pigtail, is seriously contemplating it when the car stops short.

“This is the address, right?” Tifa asks, glancing over with a wary frown. They’ve stopped in front of a decrepit, abandoned factory building. Most of the windows are broken and boarded up with planks of wood, and the front doors look one huff away from being blown completely down. But then the doors open, revealing a golden light from within, a reverberating downbeat, and a man dressed immaculately in suit, tie and tophat topped with an extravagant peacock feather. He opens the passenger seat door with a gallant bow for Cloud, before briskly heading to the driver’s side. He opens her door and offers his arm, which she takes with a nervous laugh, and then hands her a gold-plated coin with the number 77 engraved on it. In a flash he takes her place at the wheel and whisks the car out of sight.

“That is the fanciest valet I’ve ever seen,” Tifa whispers, eyebrows raised as she makes her way to Cloud’s side. And then she plunges the coin straight into her cleavage and Cloud trips over the top step, would’ve face-planted straight into the dirt if Tifa hadn’t caught him by the arm and held him in place.

“You all right?” He adjusts his glasses, but at this angle his eyes can’t help catching a wink of gold.

He stands upright and coughs, trying to distract her from noticing how warm his face feels, but it has the opposite effect as she leans in closer, concern etched into every feature. “Are you sure you’re okay? Is it another fit? Do you need some medicine? Should we leave—”

“I’m fine,” he grounds out, unable to look her in the eye as he steps through the open doors and into a blinding, dazzling opulence. “I, uh, just thought Aerith was obsessed with designing pockets in all her costumes?”

“Little full at the moment.” She pats the sides of her skirts with her hands and he hears the familiar jangle of her trusty metal knuckles. Ah. “Is it just me, or does it really smell in here?” She sneezes. And it’s adorable.

“Not just you.” The second they entered the room, they were all but drenched in a cloying perfume and his skin feels nearly sticky with it.

“Anyway, where should we start?”

“I think we go straight to the source—Corneo himself.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhm. The problem is, he’s hard to pin down at parties.”

“Huh? I thought he’d want to be the center of attention.”

“You misunderstand the point of these soirees then.” He catches two glasses of wine off a passing waiter and hands one to her, brings the rim to his lips but doesn’t drink. “They’re meant to be secluded nights of incredible debauchery…which also means—”

“Perfect for blackmail,” Tifa finishes with a sigh, and tosses the contents of her glass into a nearby plant.

“Right,” Cloud says, exchanging glasses with her so she can do the same with his.

“So should we—” Tifa cuts off as someone barrels straight into them, sending Cloud bodily through a crowded throng of well-dressed men and women in various states of cosplayed undress. He has to admit Tifa had the right idea—shit, _Tifa_. He shakes it off and darts his eyes around the room to catch sight of her. He sees the tips of dark chestnut pigtails disappearing down a hallway and pushes past the crowds in hot pursuit, ignoring every yelp of indignation.

By the time he makes it around the corner of the hallway, Tifa is backed into a dead end next to a giant grandfather clock, the arms of some drunken stranger braced on either side of her face against the wall. “You got wine all over me, girl.” The man leers, looking her up and down. “Guess we should find a room for you to clean me up.”

Cloud’s blood boils. He blazes down the hallway with his hands raised, and the only thing that keeps him from beating the shit out of this man is Tifa catching his eye and shaking her head firmly. She then turns her gaze back at the drunken man and quickly shoves him off, the impact and likely strength of it catching him so off guard that he careens backward onto his ass with a loud “oof.” Tifa slinks around him to pull Cloud’s arm in hers, pressing their bodies close together. “So sorry, sir! I’ve already got a master for the hour. But come find me later and I’ll take real good care of you.” She says it with a voice pitched two octaves high and a flutter of her lashes before quickly dragging Cloud away. She doesn’t stop until they’re settled behind the grand stairwell in the main room, out of sight.

“He’s gone, you can stop seething now,” Tifa says after a moment, voice low and amused.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“This is why I didn’t want you to come alone.” _This_ is why he didn’t want her to come at all! “Someone could recognize you.” She adjusts the glasses on his face and smooths down his blond hair that already feels like it’s creeping back into its natural gravity-defying style, despite all the layers of gel he’d plastered on. When she steps back, her eyebrows are furrowed and her cheeks are slightly puffed and he recognizes the look as the one from childhood when he used to push himself too hard and into another fit, which may have some causation with him trying to impress her. He’s the one who said it this time, after all: blackmail.

“Okay, sorry.”

“Of all things you need to keep your cool on an infiltration mission.” She shakes her finger at him sternly and he can’t help but chuckle.

“Another tried-and-true lesson from the Anything Goes School of Kisaragi Arts?”

“And don’t you forget it.” A wink, and then she takes his arm into hers again. “Now let’s go find us a sleazeball.”

+++

They walk aimless circles around the two floors of the factory for about an hour with no luck, though Cloud wouldn’t count it as a complete waste. Tifa didn’t let go of his arm the entire time, her body soft and warm tucked neatly against his. They find themselves back at that weird dead end of a hallway to escape the crowds, a few too many grabby hands at Tifa, and the literal full-on orgy happening smack in the center of the main room. She sighs and slumps against the wall, arches her back and lifts her arms to stretch them languorously above her head. He catches gold and a hint of lavender lace and bites at the inside of his cheek. Hard. “I wish I could trust anything they’re serving here…I’m so hungry. And these shoes are murder on my feet.” She raises one leg straight out and rolls her ankle from side to side like she’s completely forgotten she’s wearing the tiniest skirt in all of existence.

“ _Tifa_ ,” he croaks, trying very hard to concentrate on her shiny ruby-red stiletto and nothing else. She glances up at him through lidded eyes as she places her foot back on the ground—only to do the same thing with her other leg.

He realizes that he’s also starving, and her white thigh-high tights look mighty inviting. He places a hand on her knee without thinking, and it bends under his touch, her heel meeting the wall with a soft _thunk_ and his body following the movement closer to her until his other arm is braced on the wall next to her head and he can lean close enough to breathe in the scent of her skin.

“C-Cloud…”

“Mm?” His fingers dance higher to trace the hem of her tights, to wrap the little black bow around his pinky.

“M-my heel is stuck.”

“Your heel is—huh?”

She swallows audibly, and he follows her gaze down to where her heel is indeed stuck into the wall. “Help?”

He blinks and nods and wonders what the fuck came over him, but takes several steps back and grabs her ankle with both hands to tug her gently free. Only a piece of the wall comes falling out with her heel and there’s too much momentum and Tifa’s hands find his waist and the nape of his neck and tucks his face into her chest as she angles their bodies so that hers hits the ground first. When they’ve rolled to a stop, he lifts his head and opens his eyes and sees where the expanse of sun-kissed skin meets the softest pale valleys and the barest hint of a very dusky pink peak and flinging himself in the sun would probably cool him off at this point, but short of that he can at least fling himself off of her body. Only her grip on his back is too strong so he settles for bracing his hands on the ground and lifting as much of his weight off of her as possible. Especially his legs. He ends up on his knees, one outside of her legs but the other somehow planted firmly in-between hers. It’s very warm. He groans without warning.

“You all right?” There’s concern etched into every one of her features again, soft hands skating through his hair as if looking for any hint of a bruise or bump. She looks at him like _he’s_ the one who fell to the ground un…cushioned, like he’s the only thing that matters in the world and it makes his throat constrict and his heart drum violently against his ribcage.

“Y-yeah…”

“Good.” She closes her eyes and sags in relief, letting her hands fall to the ground and he takes the chance to scramble off of her completely and huddle against the frame of the clock, trying hard to regulate his breathing. Tifa sits upright and rubs at her shoulders before cracking her neck thoughtfully.

“A room…” Tifa mutters under her breath and his eyes balloon wide.

“ _Huh_?”

“That guy from before. He mentioned a room, right? But we’ve been all over the building without seeing any… _private rooms_. At a Don Corneo party.”

“The lack of private rooms isn’t stopping the folks in the main lobby.” Breathe in and out. In and out.

“And this wall—why is it so flimsy I can poke my heel through it?” She leans down to examine the hole and Cloud bites on his inner cheek again and fights the sudden, unbidden thought that Tifa is actually trying to kill him.

She glances at him with a frown and stands upright, takes a step toward him, then another, and then finally stops in front of him, staring past him curiously. She reaches a hand up and Cloud closes his eyes instinctively. All at once Tifa gasps, he holds his breath, and there’s a _thunk thunk_ sound of metal gears whirling.

When he opens his eyes after a wordless few seconds, Tifa stands with her arms splayed out triumphantly in front of an opening where the wall once stood. “The clock was the key.” She frowns when he doesn’t reply. “I think this will lead to Don Corneo. Let’s go?” Her top is still askew.

“Er, yeah,” Cloud smothers a cough and looks down, scratching at the nape of his neck. “You just might wanna…fix yourself up first.”

“What do you…” Tifa trails off, glancing down at herself before letting out a tiny, unbearable yelp and turning quickly away from him.

+++

“Hey, uh, thanks for before,” Tifa says, breaking the silence that loomed after they headed through the clock’s secret passageway, down two flights of stairs and further down a long, dimly lit hallway. The walls in what seems to be the basement level of the factory are thick slabs concrete. Probably very soundproof concrete.

“For what?”

“Erm, for helping me get my heel out. For letting me know about the uh…”

“It’s nothing,” he cuts her off quickly. It had literally taken this entire time for him to _stop_ thinking about it. “You’re the one who kept me from falling on my head again, anyway. You’re always saving me…even though I…” He exhales shakily, thinking of starry skies and broken promises. Some hero he turned out to be. “This was a bad idea, wasn’t it?”

“Mmhm.” She bumps her shoulder against his and he laughs sheepishly.

“I’m glad you came with me, though,” he admits, taking her by the hand and running his thumb against her calloused knuckles.

She glances up at him slowly, thoughtfully, and a sweet smile blooms over her lips. “Me too.”

“I’ve learned my lesson. Keep my cool—and never go anywhere without you again.” He adds the last part to lighten the mood, but her eyes narrow and her fingers suddenly lace with his.

“Promise?”

“What?”

“Promise you won’t ever go anywhere without me.” He was already going to say yes, but then she places her other hand over his and stares him down with those wide-deep eyes he could drink or drown in and of course his answer is: “Yeaurg.” Oh come the fuck on brain.

But Tifa giggles, which is nice, and releases his hand, which is less nice, and unthinkingly adjusts the strap of her bra under her costume which is _hnnngh_. And then she sneezes. Which is adorable.

“I can’t believe it still smells like that perfume down here,” she mutters just before they both freeze. There’s a faint _tap tap_ from way down the darkest depths of the hallway.

“I think someone’s down here,” he whispers and Tifa nods in agreement, reaching for her pockets slowly. But he knows once the gloves are on all hell might break loose and there’s no way they’ll be able to stay undetected and what will most likely happen is that they’ll be caught, they’ll start a scene, Corneo will run scott free and he can’t have that so he does the only thing he can think to do and takes her by the arm, pulls her flush against his body and crushes his lips against hers. Her eyes widen a fraction before fluttering closed and his brain short circuits, catches on fire and everything is so hot and the only relief he gets is by touching her so he does, runs his hands everywhere he can, against her collar bones and down her arms and through the length of her pigtails, tugging on the end of one she lets out the sweetest of gasps so he does it again and she finally responds in kind by grabbing fistfuls of his hair and swiping her tongue just so between his lips and he tries to pull her closer because that’s all he wants and all he’s ever wanted but it’s still not enough she’s still so far away until she’s suddenly straddling his leg with hers and—oh _fuck_. He braces his foot against the wall and lifts her clean onto his thigh and goes straight for the jugular, skates his teeth against her pulse and nips at the shell of her ear, eliciting a low moan from her that goes straight to his head and—

“Hey, whattarya you doing here?”

His eyes snap open and nearly growls against Tifa’s throat at the intrusion. “This one is mine.”

“Geez, at least take it into a room.” The kid with silver hair and black cap mutters, raising his hands in surrender and walking off, and Cloud blinks, dazed, wonders why there’s a teenager wandering around a Don Corneo party.

“Um.”

“Oh.” He blinks, suddenly wide awake. He’s pretty sure his hands are on Tifa’s ass. He flexes his fingers and feels them sink into soft bouncy delight. Yup, definitely Tifa’s ass. His fly above his head. “I’m sorry, I—”

“No, you, ah, kept calm under pressure.” She slides off his thigh and he bites the inside of his cheek. Calm under pressure. “You learn fast.”

“I had a patient teacher.”

She bites on her very plump bottom lip and glances at him through hooded, blown-out pupils. “Might not be so patient next time.”

_Hoo fucking boy._

“Tifa—” “Cloud—” “Bleaurgh.”

There’s yet another person in the hallway. Tifa glances at him with knit eyebrows before dashing ahead at the site of the noise. When he catches up to her, she’s patting the cheek of a woman dressed in a honey bee costume.

“Hey, hey are you all right?” The stench of vomit overtakes the perfume, but it's mixed with bile and something else heartbreakingly familiar. He leans down and carefully pulls back one of her eyelids. Her irises are glowing green.

“Mako poisoning,” he confirms, though he already knows Tifa’s aware. Tifa’s gaze hardens as she helps the woman stand on her own feet and gently pushes her into Cloud’s arms.

“Cloud, can you take her back upstairs? She doesn’t look in a good state.”

“What are you gonna do?”

She’s already putting on her metal claws and flexing her fingers. Cloud’s heart drops to his stomach.

“Gonna find us a creep and get some info.”

“Tifa!” But she’s already careening down the hallway and out of sight. Cloud hisses. Tifa can take care of herself for some time, but this woman—the one Tifa entrusted into his care? He’d be an absolute asshole to leave her in this hallway. He heaves her into his arms and bolts in the other direction toward the stairs. The sooner he can get her to safety, the sooner he can find Tifa before she does something reckless.

+++

He makes it back upstairs in record time, and quickly makes his way to the nearest ladies’ room because if Tifa and Aerith taught him anything, it’s that women always take care of each other in the ladies’ room. But he can’t just barge in so he paces frantically until a group of women show up to give him the dirtiest look imaginable. “Look, I found her like this and I think she needs help and I have to run because my—” Friend? Bodyguard? Unrelenting childhood crush? The most gorgeous woman he’d really like to kiss again sometime? “I gotta go, okay!” he shouts, shoving the honey bee into the group of women and racing back down toward the not-so-dead-end hallway. He rounds the corner and gets completely blindsided and wipes out, wonders if he misjudged the distance and ran straight into the clock.

“Cloud?”

“Yeahhhhnope—not Cloud. I’m—er, Sky. Sky Sad.”

“I’m sorry, did you say Sky Sad?” Oh. He absolutely recognizes that shit-eating guffaw.

“Hey, Zack.” He blinks up at Zack from the floor and adjusts his glasses.

“Hey, buddy,” Zack’s eyebrows are raised into his hairline., but he still offers an arm that Cloud takes. “What’re you doing in a place like this?”

“Get your mind outta the gutter—I’m here for intel.” He dusts himself off and Zack snorts.

“So you’re here on an infiltration mission and you chose the alias Sky Sad? Sky _Sad_. SKY SAD.”

“Shut up, I didn’t actually come here with that alias. I wasn’t planning on getting caught.”

“Dude, who wouldn’t recognize you?”

“I’m wearing glasses!” he growls and then frowns thoughtfully. “Hey, what are _you_ doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be at the hot springs with Aerith?”

Like a petal pink switch is flipped, Zack’s entire face lights up. “Wait, you heard about that? Does she talk to you about me often?”

“Get a fucking grip, man.”

“Er, sorry. I’m here to back up Kunsel. He’s been chasing this story on Corneo for months.”

“And…why are you wearing that?” Cloud says, finally realizing that the lower half of Zack’s face is covered by a black face mask.

“Oh, Kunsel’s lead. The perfume at Don Corneo’s parties. It’s a potent and pretty dangerous combination of pure, distilled Hyper and Tranquilizer, mixed with some High Elixir and a dash of Luck Source. It keeps people feeling happy and dumb, and more reckless and prone to doing stupid shit. Also tends to make people super hor—”

Fuck. “ _Tifa_!”

“Tifa?”

There’s a far off high pitched scream and Cloud and Zack exchange a brief worried glance before they hightail it down the hallway.

+++

Cloud’s not sure what he expected to find when they finally barged into the solitary room at the very end of the underground tunnel, but it sure wasn’t this.

Don Corneo in nothing but his underwear and a robe, wailing in high-pitched anguish as Tifa bends his middle finger back into a forty-five degree angle, with Kunsel taking a snapshot of the affair with his camera.

“Cloud! Look who I found.” She grins and subtracts another degree from the angle.

“This is definitely going to be on the front page news,” Kunsel adds cheerfully, taking another shot as Corneo curses and mutters about revenge. Tifa subtracts quite a few more degrees and the very loud and painful crunch shuts him up for good. He crumples into a pathetic heap atop the silken sheets of his heart-shaped bed. Ew.

“Hey, isn't that Aerith’s maid costume?”

“How do you even _know_ that?”

“I’ve been to all her concerts!”

“Huh? Zack? Aren’t you supposed to be at the Onsen with Aerith?”

Zack presses his hands against his cheeks, eyes aglow. “Does she talk to you about me too?”

Cloud and Kunsel both groan, and Corneo takes the opportunity to grab a knife by his bedside table, jukes out of Tifa’s grasp and heads straight at Cloud, who remains paralyzed.

Three things happen at once: Zack smashes his fist into Corneo’s face as Tifa dive kicks across the room and gets him in the chest and from this angle Cloud sees a very clear flash of black.

“Are you okay?” Tifa asks, leaning in close and inspecting him all over.

“You’re wearing shorts,” he blurts out.

Tifa blinks. “Of course! Have you seen how short this skirt is?”

Kunsel takes a group picture.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This idea has been kicking around my head ever since seeing both this [Aerith as an idol/Zack as her bodyguard art](https://twitter.com/sylvthea/status/1262046615289819136) and a Japanese CT artwork where Tifa is dressed as a maid that I canNOT for the life of me refind (someone pls find this and send it my way) and my stupid brain went, of course, they are both bodyguards. Toss in my secret desire for Zack, Tifa, and Yuffie to be Kirasagi cousins (Godo is the oldest, Tifa's mom is the middle child, and Zack's mom is the youngest what do you mean I've thought about this way too much) and here we are.
> 
> There will probably be more, but nothing remotely as "plotty" as this "scene" jfc how did I go over 4k words.


	2. inevitably

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: OK so let’s write more Zifa and then finish _bridge_!
> 
> My brain: But what if bodyguard AU?
> 
> Me: No, no, I wanna actually finish—
> 
> My brain: Body. Guard. AU.
> 
> For dreamfighter, my everything, who always keeps the fandom fed with delicious translations and because sometimes I can actually keep a secret! Surprise! She also finally found that [maid!Tifa fanart](https://twitter.com/mono0805/status/1266942449504497671?s=21) that helped kickstart this nonsense AU. Also here's some more [glorious maid!Tifa fanart](https://twitter.com/Voaleine/status/1324304003736326146/photo/1), I’m so thankful SE ~~finally got on my level~~ released this detail to inspire fanartists everywhere lmao. Also Tifa dlc WHEN.

Tifa is thirteen when Cloud falls out of a tree and nearly cracks his head open.

And it’s all her fault.

Blizzy sits high in the branches of the tallest tree in all of Nibelheim, mewling pathetically as Tifa bawls and begs for her to come down. Her cat takes a tentative step down a sloping branch, and then another, before it snaps clean and she scampers frantically higher into the foliage and nearly out of sight, a flash of white against green. The branch splinters onto the pavement and Tifa shrieks, covers her eyes and sobs uncontrollably.

There’s a warmth at her shoulder and she hiccups, peeks through her fingers to see Cloud’s blurred but determined gaze. He nods once and gives her shoulder a gentle squeeze before turning his back to quickly scramble up the tree trunk. Tifa’s left with nothing but the sound of rustling leaves and the scrape of bark and then—Cloud’s triumphant grin as he parts some overhead branches to get a clear view of her, Blizzy nestled safely in his other arm. She feels a flood of relief in her veins at the sight, breaks out into a giant grin and waves with both hands. And then Cloud flinches, clutches at his head in an all too familiar sight and Blizzy yowls, freefalls, catches her claws into the trunk and skitters safely onto the ground and straight home.

“ _Cloud_!”

Time like slow motion. Tifa reaches for him but it’s too late. His body hits the pavement with a sickening thud and there’s blood and his eyes are closed and _they won’t open_ and Tifa screams for help until her lungs are raw.

She doesn’t leave his side for hours because he doesn’t wake for hours and Mrs. Strife has to pry her away from his bedside because it’s getting late and her parents are worried.

“I’m so sorry, it’s all my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, Tifa,” she says gently, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“But it is! Blizzy—” Tifa cuts off, shaking her head, because that’s not important right now. What’s really important is, “Please don’t send him away.”

“What?”

“I heard you on the phone—th-that you have to send him away. Please don’t. I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, I won’t ever go near him again, just please don’t send him away.” Her voice cracks and despite her best efforts, the tears flow unending, and Mrs. Strife kneels down to wrap her arms around her trembling body.

“I’m sorry you overheard that, Tifa. But you know that Cloud’s always been sick. I thought the fresh country air would do him some good, and he was doing better—he was. And I have you to thank for that, too, because I’ve never seen him happier than when you became his friend. But it was inevitable.” She strokes Tifa’s hair just like her own mother does whenever she’s upset. “He’ll need treatment in a real city. Expensive treatment. But that’s how he’ll get better.” Mrs. Strife releases her to wipe at Tifa’s cheeks, pats them dry with a light tap. “But Cloud will be really sad if he made you cry, so try to be strong for him too, okay?”

“O-okay.”

Tifa goes home, picks at her dinner, and retreats to her room, curls up on her bed with Blizzy and her dictionary, looks up the definition of inevitable. Thinks about the whispers that followed the Strife family when they moved into town, a single mother and her sickly son. Thinks about the day Cloud finally shuffled into school, halfway through the semester, looking pale and lost and wistful as he watched the kids running around during recess from the window of the classroom. Thinks about the jerks who started bullying him because he was different, because he was _sick_ and couldn’t play like everyone else, as if it was somehow his fault. Thinks about the day she finally worked up the nerve to introduce herself to him, to sit with him in the classroom and talk to him a little, day by day, tell him all about Nibelheim and its history and the mountains, anything she could think of. Thinks about the day he finally blurted out that she must be _the best guide in town_ , his first words to her an oddly sweet compliment accompanied by a shy smile that was brighter than sunshine. Thinks about the day he first had a fit in front of her, gasping and wheezing and clutching at his head, screwing his eyes so tight that she was so scared they would never open again. Thinks about _inevitable_ and why it makes her want to cry.

Before her eyes get worked up again, there’s a familiar _tap tap_ at her window and Tifa uncurls herself from Blizzy to take a hopeful look. She draws the shades and is duly rewarded.

“Cl—”

He brings a finger up to his lips and her hands fly over her mouth, but she can’t help but lean into the glass to get a better look at him. His face is pale, and his head is wrapped up, but he’s _awake_ and standing in her backyard. He releases a small stream of pebbles from his hand onto the grass before waving. She waves back and glances at the clock—nearly midnight—throws on a hoodie and slinks quietly through the hallway, down the stairs and out the door into the night. Cloud isn’t waiting for her in her backyard, but she didn’t expect him to be, so she hurries quickly down the road.

He’s already seated at the water tower by the time she arrives, one leg swinging off the edge and the other bent with his arm tucked over it. It’s an achingly familiar sight that floods her veins with relief, and she’s a second from bowling him over into a giant hug—but he glances at her sharply with furrowed eyebrows and puffed-up cheeks and she knows something is wrong. So instead she shuffles over to sit next to him, bumps her shoulder against his in greeting. “Hey.”

“Hey.” He doesn’t return her shoulder bump, and his lips tighten like he’s trying to smile but failing really badly.

“Should you be up already? Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t quite believe him, but it’s still nice to hear. “I was so worried.”

“I’m sorry.”

She smiles and nudges his shoulder with hers again. “Why are _you_ sorry? I—”

“I’m going to Midgar,” he blurts out, staring resolutely up at the stars. Tifa’s breath catches in her throat even though she knew it was coming.

“When?”

“Next week.”

Her heart plummets. “Oh.” So soon.

He lets out a noise of frustration and balls his hands into fists at his sides. “It’s because I’m too weak.”

“Hey, you’re not,” Tifa starts, reaching for his hands, but he jerks away and she returns hers meekly to her lap, swings both legs out and back, her sneakers thunking against the tower. She stares up at the sky and remembers to breathe. “Will you get better there?”

“I think so.”

 _Thunk thunk thunk._ “Okay.” He sighs deeply and she knows it wasn’t the right thing to say, realizes she’s being selfish, she knows. Mrs. Strife told her to be strong for him, because everyone in Nibelheim knows that when she’s sad, he’s sad, and when he’s sad, she’s sad, and it’s a never-ending vicious cycle when it comes to the two of them.

Inevitable.

She slaps her cheeks with determination and he startles. “Tifa?”

Tifa turns to meet his surprised gaze. “What if we make a promise?”

“Uh?”

“That you’ll get better, and that you’ll come back for me.”

He blinks furiously. “HUH?”

“C’mon,” she laughs, putting on her bravest face. “Like in happily ever afters, when the prince comes back to rescue his princess. Like a hero.”

“H-huh? Like you’re my— _huh_?”

He’s too bewildered to be sad anymore, and somehow that expression—eyes wide and deep blue like the starry night sky above, mouth puckering like a goldfish—is enough for the pressure to release from her chest, just a little.

“Forget it—I’m just being stupid.” The wind picks up and Tifa shivers, raises her hands to blow warmth on them, but Cloud catches them in his and holds them tight, meets her gaze anew with resolution.

“I promise.”

“Huh?”

“I promise I’ll come back, and I promise to be your hero,” he says. Then instantly drops her hands to cover his face, completely embarrassed, and Tifa can’t help but giggle uncontrollably.

And just like that, the sting of an inevitable goodbye hurts a little less.

+++

Tifa is fourteen when Cloud doesn’t return for the summer. They’d exchanged letters and phone calls whenever possible, making all sorts of plans for his return, only for their last call to end up with a choked up apology that he can’t come back this year—he’s not allowed to. In fact, his dad is confiscating his phone for the rest of the summer so he can focus on his education.

Cloud’s tried not to talk too much to Tifa about his surprise mystery dad over the past year, and also about his surprise mystery half-brother, but what few things he’s let slip have never been good. She knows he’s probably suffering worse than she is, so she puts on her bravest voice and tells him, truthfully, that she’ll miss him, but she’ll be around the second he’s allowed to talk, promise. And when Cloud is inevitably forced to hang up, she decides then and there that she’s going to mope for the rest of summer.

She’s on week three of moping when her mother knocks softly on the door and lets herself in, seats herself on Tifa’s bed and strokes her hair gently. “My darling girl, what can I do to get a smile on your face?”

“Nothing,” Tifa mumbles into her pillow, and she’s being dramatic, sure, but they had had so many plans for the summer—hiking the longest trail in the Nibel mountains, buying silly hats from the newly revamped strip mall on the other side of town, sharing burgers and milkshakes at their favorite diner—and now? Now what?

“Well, that’s a shame. I know we said we couldn’t afford to go on vacation this summer, but Uncle Godo just happened to call in a favor from one of his former pupils—how would you like to spend some time with your cousins in Wutai?”

Tifa’s lips curl despite her best mopey efforts.

Mr. Highwind’s pride and joy, _The Tiny Bronco_ , is a rickety, paint-peeled contraption that barely looks like it should be able to fly, let alone float in an emergency. But Tifa loves every second of it, leans closer to the glass as much as the seatbelt allows to take in the view from above the clouds, watching with bated breath as Nibelheim grows smaller and smaller, so that even the great mountain range is just the curve of a crescent against a field of verdant green. She hoots and hollers and cheers along with Mr. Highwind when he decides to do a loop-de-loop, even as her mother silently screams beside her. Tifa has never felt more exhilarated in all her life.

She spends weeks running amok with Yuffie and Zack, eating their way through all the street vendors selling tasty summer treats, taking ridiculous pictures at the most infamous tourist traps, and trying to uncover all six Turtle’s Paradise flyers because Yuffie is obsessed with finding out if rumors of a secret, underground bar are true, even though they wouldn’t be allowed in anyway. Eventually Uncle Godo has enough of their insolence and enrolls them all into his Anything Goes School of Kisaragi Arts, because he’ll be damned if the new generation turns their backs on their heritage and doesn’t even know how to defend themselves. Her mom and Aunt Emi roll their eyes at Uncle Godo’s energy, but concede that it’ll definitely build character.

Their new routine is to wake up every morning at the crack of dawn to run two miles around the city, come back to eat some quick breakfast, meditate, and then lessons, which range from training drills, balance, archery, swordsmanship, throwing lessons, martial arts, anything goes, really. Yuffie is naturally quick, Zack is naturally strong, and Tifa is somewhere in the middle, but they breeze through most of the lessons with ease. It’s in their blood, Uncle Godo says approvingly, which is when he decides to break out some of the weirder lessons. Like trying to catch a fish with their bare hands from the river, which is _impossible_. Literally. They spend hours trying to recreate his success from the morning, and it’s well into the afternoon when they’re tired and soaked to the bone and _starving_ that Uncle Godo finally reveals the real lesson to be learned: he cheated and had the fish up his sleeve all along. A true Kisaragi should never be taken for a fool. Yuffie trips her dad into the river for that one.

And then, for their very last lesson, Uncle Godo leads them into the very top room of the pagoda, a room completely empty except for a single, beautiful, crystalline vase on top of a wooden table. It’s a family heirloom, one of the most valuable treasures of the Kisaragi clan. He leads them to bow with reverence, hands pressed together, forehead touching the tips of their fingers, eyes closed. And then, in the middle of reciting some ancient nonsense, Uncle Godo smacks his hand against the glass towards Yuffie, who shrieks but manages to strike it with her palm toward Zack, who wraps his whole body around it to keep it from falling.

“Very good!” Uncle Godo crows, before tapping the bottom of the glass with one finger and sending it careening out of Zack’s arms and straight towards Tifa.

Time like slow motion. Tifa freezes, _moves_ , reaches for the glass but it’s too late. It shatters at her feet.

“What the hell’s your problem, dad?!” Yuffie shrieks, stamping her feet. “Tifa’s gonna cry!”

“I-I’m not,” Tifa says, but already feels water damp at the corners of her eyes.

“It’s probably not even an heirloom,” Zack says consolingly, patting Tifa on the back. “Remember the fish?”

“Oh, no, it is. It belonged to the great Sayaka Kisaragi, the greatest botanist of Wutai,” Uncle Godo butts in and Tifa’s eyes leak.

“Then why the hell would you _do_ that?” Yuffie yells, smacking her tiny fists into her dad’s arm.

“Well, the real pride of the Kisaragi is the will to keep safe what we hold most dear. But hey, two of you passed.” He finger guns at them. Tifa hiccups. Zack and Yuffie fret around her. But Tifa balls her hands into fists at her sides and forces the tears away.

“Another.”

“Hm?”

“Bring another one. I know there are more.”

Uncle Godo smiles like a cat and tosses a set of keys at Yuffie with directions to the safe.

After a relentless hour, Tifa stands in an ocean of broken crystal, triumphantly clutching heirloom number fifteen safe in her arms.

“Good job, Tifa. The _real_ real pride of the Kisaragi is the ability to keep going, no matter what the odds,” Uncle Godo says sagely, as if he had planned this all along.

Yuffie kicks him in the shin.

But as ridiculous as this lesson in particular had been, Tifa can’t help the real sense of pride in the newfound strength she feels in her veins, in her ability to keep going, and maybe, also, the will to keep safe what she holds most dear.

She doesn’t miss her best friend any less, but in Wutai, surrounded by family, the summer passes much easier.

+++

Tifa is fifteen when Cloud finally returns home for the summer. He promises her this time, and Mrs. Strife confirms it the many times she’d asked to make sure, so Tifa does what any girl awaiting the arrival of her best friend would do: asks her mom to go shopping and picks out a special outfit for the occasion.

When the day finally arrives, she watches from her window as Mrs. Strife pulls out of the driveway to head to the airport before pouncing into action. Takes a quick shower, carefully dries and brushes her hair all the way though, and pats some lotion over her face, finishing with a swipe of shiny pink gloss over her lips. She snips the tags from the cowgirl-inspired outfit hanging pristinely in her closet for the past week, and ends up spending way too much time figuring out how to wear her hat. She settles for letting it hang loosely from its cord around her neck when she realizes it’s been almost an hour and they should be here soon. So she sprints to her parents’ room and spritzers on some of her mom’s favorite flowery perfume reserved for only the most special occasions, and then runs out the door toward the Strifes’ porch.

Tifa waits with her hands on her cheeks, elbows propped on her knees, for about thirty minutes before Mrs. Strife’s rusty pick-up truck finally comes rumbling and rattling through the town gates. She immediately gets up and waves excitedly with both hands as the truck pulls into the driveway. Mrs. Strife greets her warmly, ruffling her hair with affection as she heads into the house. Nervous laughter bubbles up in Tifa’s throat as the passenger door opens and Cloud’s face peers across the way at her, smiling sweetly. He’s taller now, maybe finally taller than her even, but his eyes are still as blue as the starry night sky and he opens his mouth to say—something. Whatever it would have been gets cut off as the back door of the car also opens and reveals a girl with auburn hair twisted into a high braid, set off with a gleaming pin of gold and emeralds, almost as shiny as her bright green eyes.

He didn’t come alone.

“Tifa! You’re Tifa, right?” She bounds over in a whirlwind of white ruffles and lace to clasp their hands together, shaking them up and down in unadulterated glee. “I’ve been dying to meet you!” She is probably the most beautiful girl Tifa has ever seen. Why in the world has she been dying to meet _her_?

“Um,” Tifa manages to squeak, still dazed, this mysterious girl’s hands so warm and soft over hers.

Cloud scowls and jogs around the car toward them, bats Aerith’s hands away. “Knock it off, Aerith.”

She blows Cloud a messy, loud, raspberry—which he wrinkles his nose at—before returning a dazzling smile back at Tifa. “Sorry, I guess that was a bit rude. Hi, I’m Aerith.” Her hands sneak back over Tifa’s and she notes how Aerith’s nails are dainty and long, painted in a sparkling, iridescent silver. “Cloud’s friend.”

“O-oh, I’m Tifa, Cloud’s—” Aerith’s eyes glitter in the sun as Cloud glances sharply up at her and something twinges hard in her chest. “Also Cloud’s friend. We grew up together.”

“Yeah, I’ve heard so much about you!” Aerith replies without skipping a beat. “All good things, which is super impressive for Mr. McBroodyFace.”

“Mr—” Tifa giggles despite herself, and Aerith joins in quickly, despite the way Cloud scowls at the both of them.

“My moms said some country air might be good for me after the year I’ve had, so I asked Cloud here if I could come visit for the summer and he said he’d _love_ to have me!”

“No, you _begged_ —” “Oh, no, what kind of year—”

Aerith waves them both off with her hands. “Ah, no, boring stuff. But say, Tifa, would you mind showing me around Nibelheim? I heard you’re the best guide in town!”

Tifa feels warmth flood her cheeks and tries to meet Cloud’s eyes, though he looks away quickly. “Um, sure! If Cloud’s okay with it…”

“He can come too!”

“All right, when should we—”

“Nooooooow!” Aerith cheers, looping her arm around Tifa’s as Cloud scowls anew.

“Will you hold on, we didn’t even put our bags away!”

Mrs. Strife laughs from where she’s been watching them from the front door. “Oh, go on, I can take care of the bags. You kids have fun!”

So Tifa leads them on a walking tour through Nibelheim, explaining the town’s history and pointing out its landmarks as Aerith oohs and aahs. They stop into the strip mall where Aerith decides to buy a matching hat like Tifa’s, and then walk down toward the entrance of the Mount Nibel hiking trails. Aerith also decides that this is the perfect picturesque place for some selfies, so they trek into the mountains where halfway through Cloud has to piggyback Aerith because her pretty strappy sandals are not remotely the right shoes to hike in—but at least they got some great pictures for her Shinragram. They’re starving by the time they reach the diner, so in addition to burgers and milkshakes, Aerith orders fries loaded with cheese and gravy, jalapeño poppers, and the spiciest level of wings, despite Cloud and Tifa’s warnings against it. Aerith finishes four out of six wings before downing half her milkshake and giving them the biggest puppy eyes until Cloud and Tifa take up a wing apiece, tap them together in resignation, before diving back into the experience of one of their worst memories from when they were ten. Cloud’s eyes water immediately and he accidentally wipes at his face with hands still covered in wing sauce which makes him shriek murderous threats at Aerith, who promptly snorts milkshake out of her nose, and Tifa laughs until her stomach hurts, but her heart feels achingly full.

After they stuff themselves silly, Aerith decides they can still eat dessert, so orders a slice of carrot cake—“It’s healthy, right?”—and pays the entire diner bill on the sly. Tifa tries to pay her share, but Aerith smiles and refuses her at every turn until Cloud finally tells her to give up because Aerith does whatever she wants.

Aerith winks and coos that he knows her so well.

The carrot cake is apparently the thing that finally does Aerith in, because afterward she can so barely keep her eyes open that Cloud is forced to again piggyback her as she snores against his back. Tifa smiles at the sight as they walk side by side back to his house, smooths Aerith’s hair out of her face.

“Aerith is really wonderful,” Tifa murmurs unintentionally aloud.

Cloud scoffs, nose wrinkled. “You mean super annoying?”

She giggles. “I’ve never seen this side of you—” she starts, before trailing off thoughtfully. She’d never really known Cloud to have any other friends, period, let alone how he might act around them.

He abruptly cuts off her line of thought. “You mean really annoyed?”

“You don’t mean that. Aerith is—” Funny and charming and so beautiful. She never holds anything back, says what she means and means it with her whole chest, _does whatever she wants_ without second guessing herself so much. Aerith is everything Tifa’s always wished she could be, if she really thinks about it, and Cloud knows her so well and oh. Oh, oh, no. Tifa realizes with a start just what Aerith really is.

“Tifa?”

She blinks and notices that they’re standing in front of his door and somehow the distance of two whole years finally crashes down around her. She looks up at him, his face etched with concern, and it’s familiar but different. His soft baby fat has faded into sharp contours and bony angles, though his eyes are just as intensely blue as ever. Her heart thrums in her chest and her throat is bone dry. Somehow she has no idea what to say without Aerith around to break the silence.

“Tifa?” he tries again, waving a hand in front of her face before placing it gently, warmly, on her shoulder. She flinches.

“Sorry, lost my head there,” she says, summoning her bravest voice. “Good night.”

“Oh,” Cloud replies awkwardly, letting his hand drop limp. “Yeah, good night.”

She turns to leave but is held back by a soft hand sliding into the crook of her elbow, glances back to see Aerith sleepily raise her head from behind Cloud’s back. “Tifa, don’t goooo. Stay with us.”

Tifa smiles, conflicted but heartwarmed. “It’s late. I’ve got to go home.”

“Then I wanna sleep at Tifa’s!” Aerith declares, a bit more awake as she wriggles and fumbles off of Cloud’s back.

“You’ve inconvenienced her enough,” Cloud scolds and she sticks her tongue out at him and drapes her arms and face over Tifa’s neck.

“Tifaaaa—mmm you smell so nice.”

“Sorry,” he mutters, and Tifa chuckles and pats her on the head. “It’s fine, I’d love to have her over.”

“Do you want me to walk you?”

“I live right there. Don’t worry, I’ll take good care of her,” Tifa says, and means every word of it, even as something twists loose in her chest. “Besides, I can carry her.” She bends down to grab under Aerith’s knees and scoops her easily into her arms. Cloud’s eyes widen in surprise and Tifa smiles a bit at that. She’s changed too. “Good night, Cloud.”

Tifa barely manages to get Aerith to brush her teeth and changed into a large t-shirt before she’s out like a light on Tifa’s bed. She chuckles softly at the sight before dimming the lights and washing up for bed as well. Minutes later, she’s ready to turn in next to Aerith when there’s a familiar _tap tap_ at her window.

In the time it takes her to reach the water tower, Tifa’s already decided to apologize first.

“Tifa—” “I’m sorry—”

“Huh? For what?” He tilts his head, confused.

“Aerith.” Tifa twines her fingers together with guilt as she seats herself next to him, lets her sneakers smack into the water tower with a _thunk_. “I’m sorry I took up all her attention today.”

“Why are you apologizing for that? It’s a relief.”

“Huh? B-but isn’t she your girlfriend?”

Silence.

He stares at her for about a full minute before muttering, “You’re joking, right?”

Tifa feels her cheeks flush hot under his scrutiny and lowers her hands to her lap. “N-no? I mean, she’s so charming and beautiful and—” Who wouldn’t want to date her?

“You’re joking, right?” Cloud repeats, voice high-pitched and cracking.

“But she came here with you, and—”

“Tifa, Tifa, _no_ ,” Cloud cuts her off, takes her by the shoulders to get her to look him in the eye. “She got into a big fight with her boyfriend, so she decided she wanted to be as far away from Midgar as possible to get back at him. That’s it.”

Oh. “Oh.”

“Yeah,” he says, sighing deeply.

“Um, Cloud?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re kind of hurting me.”

He glances sharply at her, so quick he bumps his nose against hers and he quickly drops his hands from his shoulders to cover his face, completely embarrassed. “S-sorry!”

She giggles uncontrollably, and just like that, something in her chest slides gently, inevitably, back into place.

+++

Tifa is sixteen when they decide to roadtrip to Gongaga for the summer because Zack’s parents are out of town for a few weeks and he could use some help with the farm. So they borrow Mrs. Strife’s truck and depart bright and early, Cloud driving the first leg of the trip while Tifa navigates and Aerith sleeps in the backseat. They break for lunch—handrolls of rice, egg, daikon, spinach, and carrots Tifa whipped up the night before—and after Aerith’s brief stint at the wheel, during which she nearly crashes into a tree as Cloud screams bloody murder, Tifa wisely decides to drive the rest of the way.

She’s pulling up on the side of the farmhouse, where Zack is chopping wood with an axe, when Aerith wriggles her head into the space between the front seats.

“Tifa! Is that your cousin? You didn’t tell me he was so _hot_!” Aerith whispers fiercely as Tifa parks the car.

“Er, oh, is he?” she asks just as Cloud mutters, “Aren’t you still dating Sephiroth?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she scoffs and undoes her seatbelt, smoothing out the wrinkles in her petal pink dress. “You know I was supposed to spend this summer with him and his mother in Costa del Sol, but he canceled on me last minute.” She sniffs. “I think his mom hates me.”

“Who could hate you?” Tifa replies, affronted, and Aerith giggles as she exits the car.

“And this is why I like you better than Cloud,” she says, immediately twining their arms together and promptly ignoring Cloud’s dry “Boo hoo hoo.”

“But seriously, Tifa, introduce me now, please? He is really, really hot,” Aerith says, dragging Tifa quickly toward the house.

“Oh, but what about Cloud—” Tifa says, and she means that they should help Cloud with the bags, but Aerith stops short and grins slyly at her.

“What _about_ him?” She repeats innocently and Tifa is certain her face is only warm because Gongaga is humid as all heck.

For the next few days they wake up at the rooster’s call and work the sunlight away, tilling fields, planting seeds, and watering crops, before going back to bed and doing it all over again. It’s tiring, but rewarding work, and Tifa enjoys every second of it. Even Cloud gets into it and, Tifa notes with a swell of relief, he seems much healthier now, and so much stronger too. It takes Aerith a whole lot of whining and complaining and Zack calling her a “delicate city gal” before she finally gets into the swing of things and realizes she quite likes the feeling of dirt underneath her nails—despite several of them breaking. At the very least, it distracts her from glaring at her phone and complaining about Sephiroth and his stupid mother every day.

Zack’s parents return almost too soon, but they celebrate with a grand feast as Aunt Emi pulls out all the stops and prepares nearly every Gongagan and Wutaian delicacy imaginable. Aerith takes particularly to the sweet dew cakes, reaches for seconds and thirds even though they’re all full to bursting and Aunt Emi laughs and says she’ll make as many as Aerith likes. They decide to stay in Gongaga for the rest of summer, although Aunt Emi and Uncle Adrien strictly forbid them to do any more work because “you sweet kids have helped us enough!” This restriction even extends to Zack, so the four of them spend their days fishing and swimming and surfing in the crystalline Gongaga rivers and beaches, taking a road trip to Cosmo Canyon, and camping out in the jungle forests.

On their last night in Gongaga, before everyone has to go back to their lives outside of this blissful summer bubble, they’re sitting around a campfire in the middle of the woods, passing around a bottle of Corel wine smuggled out of Uncle Adrien’s liquor cabinet. Zack takes a big swig and the liquid dribbles from the corner of his lips, which Aerith wipes away with her thumb and licks clean before taking a bigger swig and passing the bottle onto Tifa. Tifa’s already feeling warm and giddy by the fifth go-around, so she takes a tiny sip, lets it pool in the back of her mouth and slowly, sweetly, trickle down her throat. She leans over to pass the bottle to Cloud but loses her footing on the thick grass and stumbles with an _oof_ into his shoulder. One hand steadies the bottle between them and the other hand winds around her waist, pulling her onto the trunk flush against him.

He takes a long sip and hands the bottle back across the fire toward Zack. “I hear you’re applying to the Turks Security Company.”

“Ah, my old man sold me out, eh?”

“Wow, it takes a lot to become a Turk. Is a simple country bumpkin like you really up for the task?” Aerith asks coquettishly, fluttering her eyelashes, hands curled over her cheeks.

“Well, I might be a simple country bumpkin, ma’am,” Zack replies with an exaggerated twang, “but I’m decent with my hands.” He wiggles his eyebrows as he meets her gaze, tosses the bottle in the air and catches it without looking, offers it to her with a head tilt.

“Mm, decent with your hands, indeed.”

“Can you both knock that off!” Cloud groans, and Zack and Aerith burst into cackles so infectious even Tifa can’t help a small chuckle.

“Et tu, Tifa?” Cloud pouts, and Tifa giggles and pats the hand still warm on her waist.

“So what about you two? Ready for your next chapter at Midgar U.?”

“Meh,” Aerith replies, placing her hands over Zack’s and tipping the bottle against her lips. “Getting a stable education? Not as glamorous as the Turk life. And it’s gonna be boring till next year.” She jiggles the bottle toward Tifa, who shakes her head, and Cloud reaches back over instead.

“What happens next year?”

“Tifa will be there!” Aerith cheers and Cloud splutters wine into the fire.

“Wait. What? You are? You decided to apply? Since when?” Cloud’s rapid-fire questions catch her off guard, jostles her whole body against his.

“Oh, um, well, it’s not official yet. But if I keep up my grades next year I should be eligible for a decent financial aid package…” she replies shyly, and doesn’t mention that she only seriously looked into it when Cloud and Aerith received their acceptance letters.

“Great, that’s really great,” he murmurs and adds, softly, for her ears only, “I’m proud of you.”

Her ears feel way too warm—oh these unbearable Gonagan summers.

“That’s quite the dopey smile on your face, Cloud Strife!” Zack hollers and Cloud flips him the bird before draining the whole bottle to Zack and Aerith’s collective whoops.

Later, as the fire dwindles down into tiny embers, and after the third time Tifa finds her head lolling onto Cloud’s shoulder, Aerith declares that they should all turn in since they’ve got a long drive ahead of them and oh, by the way, she’s gonna share a tent with Zack tonight.

“Wait—” Cloud hisses before Aerith shoves them into hers and Tifa’s tent and zips it up behind them with a cheerful, “Good night!”

“I’m sorry,” Cloud mutters, kneeling awkwardly in front of the tent entrance as Tifa laughs and unrolls her sleeping bag.

“It’s fine, but should we be worried about Aerith?”

“I’m more worried about Zack, to be honest,” Cloud admits and Tifa laughs again and also rolls out Aerith’s sleeping bag for Cloud, before settling on top of hers.

When Cloud doesn’t move from his spot, she frowns. “Do you need more space? I can move over.”

“No, I ah—are you okay?”

“Hm?”

“Sharing a tent. With me, I mean,” he mumbles, rubbing a hand over his forearm.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Tifa blinks and pats the top of Aerith’s sleeping bag. “I mean, we used to have sleepovers all the time, remember?”

Cloud slowly eases onto Aerith’s sleeping bag with a frown. “Yeah, but that was when…”

“When?” Tifa repeats, leaning closer to better hear him.

“I mean, that was different—” he cuts off, turns sharply to look at her and realizes too late how close the movement brings their faces.

“Different how?” Tifa can’t breathe.

“Because now, I—” he whispers, leaning closer, closer, so close, smelling so faintly wine sweet. Tifa shuts her eyes.

And then the zipper of the tent flies open and Aerith announces, “I’m sleeping here tonight!” before tossing a pillow at Cloud’s head.

“Aren't you supposed to be sharing with Z—”

“No!”

Cloud sends her a last lingering look, that Tifa returns with a helpless shrug as Aerith shoos him out and zips up the tent in his wake. Tifa’s not sure what to feel, relief or—but she’ll save those thoughts for another day, because right now she’s mostly worried.

“Did Zack do something?” Tifa asks softly as Aerith slides onto the sleeping bag next to her and buries her head into Tifa’s chest. “Do I have to go and beat him up?”

“ _No_.”

“Oh. Then what happened?”

“ _Nothing._ ”

“Um.”

“Boys are supposed to be jerks.” She sniffs messily into Tifa’s shirt. “Why isn’t Zack a jerk?”

Tifa doesn’t really have an answer to that, but she does stroke Aerith’s hair soothingly until they both fall asleep.

+++

Tifa is seventeen when her mother passes away.

Mako poisoning.

Slow and addictive and seeping into their lives like a mist of toxic green around the pupils of her mother’s irises, in the little pills disappearing day by day on her bedside table, in trembling veins within paper-thin skin.

“It was inevitable,” people have the nerve to whisper, even at the wake. “She’s been unhappy for a while.”

“Such a shame.”

“It takes even the strongest among us.”

Tifa always knew, somewhere in her heart, that life wasn’t as perfect as it used to be. As she used to think it was. She saw the hard lines of her father’s face and the weariness in her mother’s bones and most of all she remembers the day Ayumi Lockhart simply stopped playing the piano.

Tifa doesn’t remember much else from that day. Remembers clinging to Aerith throughout the funeral, and huddling together with Yuffie and Zack in a sniffling, sobbing mess, and then a comforting warmth on her shoulder, on the small of her back, guiding her through the room of whispers and condolences, keeping her upright when her legs threatened to simply give out from under her, picking her up and carrying her to bed when they finally did. A warmth stroking her hair until she fell asleep.

+++

Tifa is eighteen and still in Nibelheim and still filled with so much rage. She tanked her last year of high school, too numb to do anything, to try. And then the rejection letters came one by one. She’s turned her anger outwards and inwards, at her mother for being so weak to succumb to Mako to take away the pain, at herself for being weaker than even that. She smashes the bottle of flowery perfume she so desperately saved from her father’s purge and the scent overwhelms her, threatens to break her even though she’s already so broken and far gone. So she runs, runs down her stairs and out of her house and through the town until she ends up at the old, rundown gym. Thinks maybe this will, finally, help her feel again.

She joins the gym and beats her hands against a punching bag all day, every day, punches away her thoughts and emotions, obliterates her weaknesses and memories, breaks her bones over and over and over again.

She’s demolishing yet another punching bag that she’ll have to pay for when someone catches her hand and presses one finger very gently into her knuckles and she hisses as white hot pain shoots into her skull, jerks away and falls onto the mat below, curled up in pain.

“Well, that’s disappointing.”

“What the _fuck_ ,” Tifa snarls, jumping back on her feet and rearing her good fist back to punch this stranger in the face.

“So much for Ayumi Lockhart’s daughter.” He easily dodges her fist and sidesteps her follow-up roundhouse, taps two fingers into her ribs and pain explodes in her whole body. She crumples back down to the floor and stays there as he turns his back, cape swishing dramatically behind him.

“W—wait.”

He waits.

With great effort Tifa lifts herself into a sitting position from the floor, her body too fatigued to do much else. “You knew my mother.” Her lower lip trembles, but she refuses to cry.

The stranger turns around and bends down on a knee to look her in the eye. “I did. I trained her, after all. She was one of my best students.”

“Master Zangan,” Tifa says faintly, remembering her mother’s stories of her dramatic martial arts teacher who still wore a cape in this day and age.

“I heard what happened. I’m sorry for your loss,” he says solemnly, and Tifa draws blood on her lower lip to keep the tears at bay.

Zangan shakes his head softly. “True strength comes from knowing yourself and your limits—not from dry eyes.”

Her eyes water at that and she sobs, finally, for the first time in years, full body-wracking uncontrollable sobs as the adrenaline wears completely off and the crushing weight of reality slams so fully and painfully into her weary bones. Master Zangan waits with her until there is nothing left.

“Can you teach me?” she asks finally, softly, desperately.

Zangan takes both of her hands into his and shakes his head. “Yes, but first you need to learn how to heal.”

Tifa begins her training immediately, picks up a job at the gym to allow her after hours access to train harder, throws her entire life into learning everything she can under Zangan’s tutelage.

Aerith still tries to call her every other week, and every other week Tifa glances at the phone and just can’t bring herself to pick up. Cloud gave up on the phone after the first few months, and that’s when the letters started to come.

Sometimes he wrote about his classes, his professors, university life. Sometimes he updated her about Aerith’s new girlfriend or Zack’s new promotion. Sometimes Aerith hijacked his letters. Sometimes, Cloud broke off in the middle of a sentence and simply ended the note with _I miss you_.

Soon, she’d think, later, she’d think. She’d get back to them when she was better, when she could be better for them, deserve them. But even after every lesson with Zangan, even after she’d feel more whole again, somehow, still, she could never bring herself to reach out.

They have lives and futures so bright ahead of them and she’s still here. She’d only bring them down if she tried.

So she stops reading the letters because she just can’t—lets them pile and collect dust until eventually, the letters stop, too.

Inevitable.

Cloud doesn’t return home that summer.

+++

Tifa is nineteen and still in Nibelheim, but she has a routine. She has her early morning shift at the gym, then training at noon, and then time for a quick shower and something to eat before she heads to the night shift at the tavern. Her father is six months clean and finally, slowly, starting to heal. And she is, too. The fragrance of flowery perfume is faint in her bedroom, and sometimes when she breathes in too deeply, sometimes she doesn’t smell a thing.

It’s not a glamorous life, but it’s hers and it wouldn’t be right to ask for anything more.

She’s back at home after a late night shift that ended in a row that she had to break up and she’s so bone-deep tired that she doesn’t even want to wash up, simply pitches herself onto her bed to pass out.

Only there’s the ghost of a familiar _tap tap_ at her window.

 _Ugh_. She clamps her hands over her ears and wills the noise away, but it’s persistent, unrelenting. _Tap tap tap tap taptaptaptaptap_.

She storms over to her window and lifts the shades, ready to yell at some neighborhood hooligans—

Cloud Strife waves from her backyard and her heart tumbles inside of her chest. What is he doing here? Tifa glances at the clock—it’s nearly midnight—and glances back out the window but he’s gone, the yard completely empty, a figment of her imagination.

She trudges back to bed, wired and pretty sure she’s insane.

So what’s the harm in a little more madness?

She shucks on a hoodie and heads out the door and into the night, pumping her legs as fast as she can go so that once she sees that empty water tower, she can go back to bed and back to her life and back to her routine.

“Hey,” Cloud says, and she nearly trips on her feet. He’s sitting with one leg swinging off the edge and the other bent with his arm tucked over it. It’s an achingly familiar sight.

What, why, how, why, what, why _now_ — “Hey.”

As if in a trance her feet take her next to him and she sits. _Thunk thunk thunk_.

He bumps his shoulder against hers. “How are ya?”

She stares. “How am I?”

“Yeah.” His face is unreadable to her, although his eyes are the same as ever, like a starlit sky filled with promise, like he wants to drown her in them.

“I’m—” she almost lets him. “What are you doing here, Cloud?”

“Right. I know. I could have planned this better.” He takes a deep breath before continuing, “I’m starting a company and I want you to join me.”

“What?”

“I’m starting a company and I want you to join me.”

“No, I heard you fine. But. _What_?”

He lets out a noise of frustration and his lips tighten like he’s trying to smile but failing really badly. “Come to Midgar with me.”

“Why?”

“I want you to join—”

Tifa shakes her head, exasperated. “No, Cloud, why. Why me? I don’t have any special training and only have a high school degree. I’m no good at anything—except maybe punching things and mixing drinks.”

“Well, I don’t drink, so punch things for me. And when you’re not with me, you can go to college—if you still want, I mean. And—oh! Aerith broke up with her girlfriend and she says she's lonely and really wants a roommate.”

Tifa leans her head against the tower and screws her eyes shut. “What in the world, Cloud Strife. What kind of job is _punching things_?”

“Well, to be honest, I’m probably going to make some enemies. So I could use someone to watch my back.”

“You can get Zack—”

“No, Tifa. It’s you. I need _you_. No matter what anyone else says to me, yours is the only opinion that really matters—that I can trust. I need you on my side.”

She startles at that, slowly opens her eyes to find his gaze unmoved from her. Her chest aches, feels pulled in all directions and stretched thin, even though something warm and familiar collapses in on itself.

“Wh—”

His watch beeps and he curses under his breath, fumbles with his pockets until he uncovers a tiny rectangle of paper. A one way plane ticket with her name on it. “Sorry—I tried to time it better, but. Um. Happy birthday, Tifa—oof!”

Tifa is twenty when she reaches out to bowl Cloud Strife over into a giant hug and makes the decision to follow him to Midgar.

He’s no prince, and she’s certainly no princess, but he’s here, he came back to her— _for_ her, again and again and even now when she didn’t think there was anything to come back for. He’s here and offering her a chance, a future, a lifeline. A hand.

Her hero.

And just like that, Cloud and Tifa slide gently, inevitably, back into place.

+++

**Bonus 1:**

“I told you to bring her to Midgar, not hire her!”

“And I told you Tifa would never feel comfortable if she remotely felt like a freeloader. Now she’s here and can go to school and even send money home to her dad. Win win!”

“I was gonna offer her a job at Cetra Entertainment that wouldn’t require her to _punch things_.”

Ah, shit. “Oh, what difference does it make? She’s here and that’s all that matters right?”

Aerith is looking at him like he’s pathetic, which is usually how she looks at him, but she’s also usually right, which is why Cloud especially hates that look. “You know, if you’re her boss it’s improper to date her.”

“…I know that!”

He didn’t know that. Hoo boy, is he fucked.

**Bonus 2:**

“So if you’re Zack’s boss, now, it’ll be improper to date him, right? Right?”

“I don’t want to date him I just want to fuck him.”

“Aerith!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~If you were wondering, yes obviously Aerith used to be the Queen Bee Mean Girl and she and Cloud became enemies to friends after he unintentionally overthrew her reign at their private school ala Gossip Girl and no I will never actually write that out that’s too much even for me.~~
> 
> Anyway, the reason this chapter took so dang long is because Tifa is the hardest person for me to wrap my head around to write for, so I really hope I did our queen and her backstory (WHY TF DOES THIS AU HAVE BACKSTORY) some justice. 555-let-me-know-if-I-failed. <3
> 
> This really, truly, was supposed to be a throwaway AU for shits and giggles, but here we are sitting at how many brain-farted words and I guess I love it, so suggestions for a new title will be met with joy and appreciation!


	3. idolguard

SCANDAL: IDOL A’S FAN MEETS NASTY FATE WITH UMBRELLA!!! See page B3 for more...!

“What do you have to say for yourself, Tseng?” Aerith asks, slamming the tabloid rag onto his desk. There is a grainy black-and-white image of a woman with eyes pixelated in gray, though it’s obviously Aerith to anyone who might know her. (And who _wouldn’t_ know her?) The image also features a man getting pummeled by a thin black umbrella. And, if one were to look very closely, they might lastly see a third figure, barely visible in a full black suit.

“He was asking for it.”

“He was _asking_ for an autograph!”

“You can’t trust every slobbering man on the street.”

“He had a pen!! You can’t kill anyone with a pen!” Tseng raises an eyebrow and twirls the pen in his hand. Aerith flops her hands dramatically. “Okay, fine! Maybe _you_ could kill someone with a pen. But you can’t beat up all my fans! Do you know what that’s gonna do to my debut as a solo artist?”

Tseng places his pen very delicately onto his desk and leans in, fingers templed. “Aerith, with all due respect, I’m not your manager, I’m your security detail.”

“Tseng, with all do respect,” Aerith repeats with way too much saccharine sweetness coating her tongue, “you’re fired.”

A beat. 

“You can’t fire me, I work for Elmyra.” He breaks eye contact to sweep her tabloid across the desk and straight into the garbage can. “Now, if that’s all, I have some paperwork to catch up on.”

Aerith tsks. He’s right. And her mom is the most overprotective person on the planet. It’s why Tseng has been watching over her since she was like nine. She takes out her cell phone and places it face up on the desk, hits the speaker button.

“Hey, mama?”

Ifalna Gainsborough’s cheerful voice bubbles in like sunshine. “Hey, honey, how are you?”

“Good, good. How are the flowers?” 

“My sunflower babies are growing so strong and tall and beautiful. But not as beautiful as you, my radiant child.”

“Awww, thanks mama.” Tseng frowns up at her and tries to swat her phone away, but Aerith keeps it in place with her index finger. “I’m glad to hear the sunflowers are doing so well. Say, by the by, would you mind if I, oh, I don’t know, _fire Tseng_?”

Tseng’s eyebrows raise into his hairline. “Wait, Ifalna—”

“Sure, hon! Whatever you like. I gotta go water the babies now, okie? Love you!”

“Love you too!”

Aerith ends the call, takes up her phone and cradles it against her chest, sticks her tongue out at him. “Ha!”

Tseng takes out his cell phone and hits speed dial one. Aerith gasps and reaches for the phone but her arms are too dang short and cute and it’s too late.

He puts it on speaker with a press of a button, just in time to hear her mom’s steady greeting. “Hello, Tseng.”

“Hello, Elmyra. Aerith just tried to fire me again.”

“She can’t fire you.”

“She called Ifalna.”

“Aerith Serena Gainsborough!”

“Moooom! He hit my fan with an umbrella!”

A beat.

“Tseng, do you have any idea what that’s gonna do for her debut as a solo artist?!”

Aerith grins and fist pumps.

“Tseng, find yourself a replacement, stat.”

Tseng sighs and the vein on his temple pulses. He presses the button on his intercom for his secretary. 

“Yessir?”

“Call for anyone not on assignment right now.”

“Yessir!”

+++

Ten minutes later, a blond, a redhead, and a bald all in black suits of similar flair arrive in tow.

“These three?” Aerith whispers conspiratorially to Tseng from where she’s perched on the corner of his desk, legs dangling off the end. 

“Luckily they’re three of my best, so take your pick.”

Aerith glances at them all in turn and shakes her head. “Nuh-uh.”

Tseng rolls his eyes. “Fine, then I shall pick. Reno, you’re gonna be Aerith’s primary security from now on.”

Reno runs his tongue slowly over a shiny bottom lip, before saluting her with two fingers. “Hey, Princess.”

Aerith unintentionally licks her lips, eyes darting between Reno and Tseng, before leaning in again to whisper, “Listen, I don’t think it’s a good idea for my primary security detail to be…well…someone I slept with.”

The vein on Tseng’s temple bulges. “You slept with—”

Aerith clamps her hands over Tseng's mouth and hisses. He removes them calmly, adjusts his tie, and then coughs. “Okay, what about Rude.” 

“Hey!”

Rude tips his shades. “Hello, Aerith.”

Aerith leans in again. “Right, remember when I said—”

“Oh my god, Aerith.”

“What! He was covering for you during my trip to Mideel.”

Tseng’s vein is close to bursting. “OKAY, ELENA IT IS!”

Elena’s head jolts up with a start. “Um!”

Aerith blows her a kiss. “Tseng, I _said_ —”

Elena flushes a violent shade of red, hands on her cheeks, as Reno cackles outright and even Rude has to stifle a smile.

Tseng presses his intercom.

“Yessir?” 

“Is there anyone else at all not on assignment?” He asks through grit teeth, adding, under his breath, “Preferably someone Aerith _hasn’t_ slept with.”

“Hmm, no sir, I sent up everyone who—oh, what about Zack?” 

“Fair?” 

“Yessir. I believe he’s due back from Costa del Sol this week.”

Suddenly Reno is standing next to Aerith, his footsteps always lighter than a ghost. He slings an arm around her shoulders and walks two fingers slowly up her bare forearm, blowing warm air in the shell of her ear. “You mean you _haven’t_ slept with Zack, Princess? That doesn’t sound like my girl.” 

“Not your girl, you—you pig,” Aerith mutters, involuntarily running her high-heeled foot up the length of his leg before remembering that Tseng is _right there_ , as well as Rude and Elena, and she drops her foot instantly. Reminds herself that she doesn’t miss Reno at all, especially not his—pork. “And no, not that it’s any of your business, but I have _not_ slept with Zack.” Though it’s not for lack of trying, if she’s honest. 

“Problem solved then,” Reno says, hands disappearing into the pockets of his slacks when Tseng glances their way, his mouth a grim line as the intercom shuts off.

“Problem not solved. Zack’s just been offered a long-term primary security contract.” 

“Scarlet?!” Reno asks, eyes wide as Tseng nods. “Ah fuck, I’ve been angling for that contract for _months_! Rich, hot, busty widow traveling the world without a care in the world? Best gig outta Midgar.”

Aerith tells herself not to be disappointed. She kicks Reno out of the way as she alights from Tseng’s desk with a flounce of her lacy white dress. “Well, you all figure this out. I’m gonna go home.”

“Aerith—wait, you can’t go alone.”

“Watch me!” 

+++

“You fired Tseng?” Tifa gasps over the line and Aerith sighs.

“Et tu, Tifa?” 

“I mean, I know you never liked that he was always hanging around—and it was really weird when I finally noticed him trailing us around Nibelheim all those summers ago. But. He’s been your primary security detail since you were a child.”

“And I’m _not_ a child anymore, Tifa! I’m an adult—and I’m a fucking superstar if I may add.”

“You may,” Tifa allows, her voice warm like butter and obviously amused. “But doesn’t that mean you need protection more than ever?” 

“Ugh! I haven’t had a near-kidnapping since I was eight. And you saw the tabloids right?” 

“The sun doesn’t come up for Idol A’s biggest fan?” 

“God, there’s another one? They’re getting way too cheeky with these headlines.”

“Where are you, by the way?”

“Me? Oh, I’m a few blocks from home. Right by our favorite pizza place.”

“Okay, stop in there. Order a pie. I’ll come over now and we’ll walk home together—I’m already heading out the door.”

“Tifa, I just told you I’m not a child. I can take care of myself!”

“I know. Believe me, I know you can take care of yourself. I—I just want some pizza.”

Aerith rolls her eyes heavenward, and then frowns as a drop of water hits her nose. Dang it, and to top it all off, it’s raining and someone out there is gonna snap a picture of her drenched ass. Well, maybe it’ll overshadow The Umbrella Incident. “Tifa Lockhart are you using your lying voice on me right now?” 

“N-no.”

“ _Tifa_.”

“I don’t have a lying voice!” 

“Yeah, because you suck at lying.”

“Look, I’m already a block away, just stay where you are—I can see you now.”

“...Your office is like ten blocks away, how—are you _sprinting_ right now? How can you be sprinting and not sound remotely out of breath?”

“Let’s call it lightly jogg— _Aerith duck_!” 

“Wha—” The phone clatters to the ground as she listens instinctively to Tifa, ducking to her knees and just barely missing a sideswipe by some stranger. People shriek and limbs are suddenly everywhere, knees on her back and hands shoving at her sides. Aerith backs into a wall, one shoe lost somewhere in the chaos, when the crowds finally clear and a man looms in front of her with a gun.

“Come quietly, Miss Gains—” he cuts off, eyes bulging wide as he’s yanked backwards on his ass before being curb-stomped in the chest by both an incredibly polished leather shoe and one bright red high-top sneaker.

“You were sayin’, Princess?” Reno drawls, fingers crooked, as Rude and Tifa both remove their shoes from the gut of the now unconscious man and exchange polite greetings. 

“I don’t need a bodyguard!” Aerith cries in frustration, ripping off her remaining strappy high-heel, taking Tifa by the wrist, and stomping barefoot the rest of the way to the apartment.

+++

“I need a bodyguard, don’t I?” Aerith is curled up on the couch, blanket tucked over her shoulders, sipping from a mug her favorite comfort drink: Tifa’s hot chocolate with a heavy-handed pinch of chili powder, topped with whipped cream and mixed with a whole cinnamon stick. She’s had a cup every night for the past week.

“Well, yeah, if you ever want to leave the apartment again.” Tifa’s voice is gentle and teasing, but there’s an undercurrent of real worry there. This, too, has also accompanied Aerith’s every night for the past week. “You’re kind of a big deal.” 

“I mean, true. But I always thought my mom was being overprotective for nothing, and that I’ve been safe all these years because there’s not really a target on my back. Not because Tseng was apparently taking care of shit so well that I didn’t even notice.” She sighs and sips deep enough to give herself a whipped cream mustache. “But worst of all, I just hate that Tseng was right. He’s gonna be _insufferable_ from now on! How am I gonna live my best idol life with him trying to control everything I do all the time?!”

Aerith purses her lips hard enough to get whipped cream on the tip of her nose and Tifa laughs, reaches over to wipe it all clean with her thumb. “We’ll figure something out. We always do.” 

Aerith’s already resigned to just figuring out how to rehire Tseng with the least amount of humiliation, but the sentiment is so touching that she throws her arms around Tifa, knocking the other girl into the opposite armrest and nuzzling her face against her chest. “Thanks, Tifa.” 

“Always,” Tifa replies, bringing one arm around her waist, the other coming up to smooth soothing circles in her hair. 

The door buzzes. 

“Oh, I’ll get that,” Tifa says, but Aerith refuses to budge. 

“No, this is my Tifa time.” 

Buzz. Buzz buzz buzz buzz buzz. 

The security panel across the room lights up and Cloud’s voice crackles through the line. “Hey! Open up! You’re the one who ordered this pizza!” 

Aerith sighs dramatically as Tifa untangles their limbs to go answer the door. There’s several clicks and clacks as all the various extra security bits and bobs they had installed are unlocked. 

“What’d you get?” Tifa’s voice carries down the entrance hallway once the door clicks open and shut again. 

“Pineapple and ham.” 

“Ooh, my favorite.” 

“What! I told you I’m vegetarian now!” Aerith cries, throwing her hands up dramatically. Of all the nerve, Cloud Strife! 

“Just pick the ham off!”

“You jerk! You know I’m having a hard—” Aerith stops short as Cloud and Tifa finally round the corner into the living room. 

Cloud sticks his tongue out and gestures behind him with his thumb. “Brought you something better.” 

“Country boy!” 

“City gal!” 

Tifa quickly lifts the pizza boxes out of Cloud’s hands and straight over their heads with one hand while using the other to tug Cloud out of the way of an oncoming Aerith bullet train. Because Aerith is of course up on her feet in an instant and diving straight into Zack’s open and waiting arms. 

“I heard you were coming back this week, but why didn’t you _tell_ me?!” Aerith exclaims, wrapping her arms around Zack’s broad shoulders as her legs curve around his waist with practiced familiarity. She notes instantly how much brighter his sky-blue eyes glow against his newly sunkissed tan, and they crinkle at the corners as he swoops in to plant sloppy kisses on both of her cheeks. The skin peeling off the bridge of his nose tickles when it bumps against hers, and when she leans fully into the hollow of his neck and breathes in deep, he smells like woodsy petrichor. So many years later and he’s still diligently wearing the scent she picked out for him that summer in Gongaga. And instead of letting go and dropping back onto her feet, she locks one ankle on top of the other and his subsequent laugh rumbles her whole body with warmth.

“Now who’d you hear _that_ from?” Zack’s hands wrap around her waist to keep her steady, barely brushing the top of her ass, ever the gentleman.

“A little black birdie,” Aerith sing-songs as Zack carries her all the way back over to the sofa, but instead of setting her down he simply crashes right down with Aerith settling comfortably over his lap. She could definitely get used to this. 

“Whatcha drinking, Gainsborough?” He asks, taking the mug Cloud lifts from the coffee table in an effort to make space for the pizza boxes. 

“Wait, it’s—” Her eyes widen and even Cloud winces. 

He lets the drink dribble back into the mug with a grimace. “ _Disgusting_?” 

“It’s the spicy hot chocolate, isn’t it?” Cloud quips, opening up the pizza boxes.

“What kind of monster makes something as delicious as hot chocolate _spicy_?”

“I think you mean what kind of monster _drinks_ it.”

“Shut up, both of you!” Aerith declares before taking a long sip that somehow tastes a little sweeter than before. Cloud rolls his eyes, but finally gets box pizza boxes situated precariously on the small coffee table, opens them both to reveal one pineapple and ham pie, and one vegetarian supreme. 

“Aw, Cloud! You big, stupid softie!” 

“Tifa made me,” Cloud mutters, before angling his face toward the kitchen, where Tifa is gathering plates, napkins, and three glasses of soda. “And this is why I don’t do nice things for Aerith!” 

Tifa’s laughter tinkles like a chime and Aerith sticks her tongue out and makes grabby hands for a vegetarian slice. Zack reaches over and plants one into her open palms. “Your arms are too dang short and cute.” 

Hm, the spice must be getting to her with how warm she feels. Silence descends as everyone digs into the heavenly, cheesy goodness that is the pizza from _Jessie’s_ , and Aerith is nibbling on the crust of her single vegetarian slice in the time it takes Zack and Cloud to inhale four apiece, and Tifa two. 

“So,” Zack says finally, guzzling down a whole glass of soda as he reaches for his fifth slice. “Cloud says you haven’t left the apartment for a week, and that’s why he’s playing delivery boy?” 

“Yeah, after our Chinese order came via delivery man with a serrated knife a few nights ago, _and_ three other dudes tried to attack us at the grocery store—”

“And we can’t even go for a run at four in the morning without some maniac chasing after us with a gun,” Aerith finishes Tifa’s sentence with a hefty sigh and another crunchy bite of crust. 

“Sounds bad,” Zack says around a mouthful of pizza just as Cloud’s gaze hardens and flits toward Tifa. 

“You didn’t tell me that,” he says quietly. “You said you fell.”

“I did.” Tifa shrugs, bumping her shoulder against his. “From dodging that bullet. But you know it’s nothing I can’t handle.” 

“Yeah, but,” Cloud insists, as Tifa continues blithely, “I’ve tried to convince Aerith to just let me be her bodyguard from now on, but…”

Cloud fully chokes on his pizza and Tifa’s eyes round with full concern as her arms wind around him to whack him on the back. The motion sends his face fully into Tifa’s bosom, which is always a wonderful place to be if you’re not Cloud Strife, madly in love with the woman, and trying not to die an embarrassing death there. But it’s still a _hilarious_ sight, which is probably why Aerith waits an extra few seconds to put him out of his misery, “And I already told Tifa no, because my concerts will take her away from her classes, and I could never do that to her.” 

Cloud instantly stops choking and straightens up. Tifa’s hands don’t leave his back though. “Right, right, that makes sense.” 

Oh my god, these idiots. She wriggles in annoyance like she usually does whenever Cloud and Tifa almost act like the couple they finally should be instead of the couple of oblivious idiots they _usually_ are, but somehow she’s forgotten that she’s still in Zack’s lap and the movement nearly topples her right off if not for his arm suddenly warm on her waist, hand curled loosely over her lap.

She takes a sip of hot chocolate to clear her throat. “Anyway, it’s getting to the point where I should probably call Tseng and apologize.”

“Don’t call Tseng.”

“Huh?” Aerith blinks as Zack nonchalantly takes up another slice of pizza and shoves it into his mouth. “What do you mean, I can’t rely on Tifa forever.”

“What about me?” He’s licking his fingers clean of grease and is studiously avoiding Aerith’s narrowed gaze.

“I thought you got that Scarlet contract,” Aerith says finally, cautiously, aware that Cloud and Tifa are quietly watching them both. 

He chuckles low in his throat. “Little black birds even told you that much, huh?” 

She nods. 

“Well, I already turned that down.”

“ _Why_? I heard it’s the best gig outta Midgar.” 

He shrugs, the movement jostling her whole body closer. “Eh, I wanted a change of pace. And now I need a new job. So, what do you say?”

His gaze finally meets hers, sky blue eyes winking mischievously in the light, and Aerith’s breath stutters in her throat. It’s really stuffy in here. 

“Well, I say it depends on if you pass my rigorous interview process.” She winks, patting the hand still warm on her lap before reaching all the way over to grab a new slice of pizza. 

“I’ve never met an interview I haven’t nailed.”

She’s very proud of not choking on her bite. “Mmm.”

“Hey, I thought you were a vegetarian now,” Cloud mutters as she tastes pineapple and ham on her tongue.

“Shut up.”

+++

**Deleted Scene 1 (from chapter 2):**

“Aerith.” Tifa twines her fingers together with guilt as she seats herself next to him, lets her sneakers smack into the water tower with a _thunk_. “I’m sorry I took up all her attention today.”

“Why are you apologizing for that? It’s a relief.”

“Huh? B-but isn’t she your girlfriend?”

“What? _No._ ” 

“Oh. What a relief!” 

“A relief?” 

“Yeah. I’ve been feeling so guilty since she kissed me.”

“ _What_.”

**Deleted Scene 2:**

Tifa frowns thoughtfully and claps a hand on her shoulder. “What about me?”

“What about you?”

“What if I become your security detail?”

Aerith blinks at her wide-eyed, her mouth puckering into a thoughtful ‘o.’ She could get on board with having Tifa around her all the time and she’d definitely feel safe and not at all smothered like with Tseng. But Cloud would probably be pretty pissed if she stole Tifa away. Not to mention… 

“No, I couldn’t ask you to do that. It’d be hard for you to keep up with your classes if you had to travel around to all my concerts with me.” Aerith sighs and throws her arms around Tifa, cradles her face into her bouncy, soft chest. “Plus, I’d probably try to sleep with you.”

“What?”

“What?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter was way too sweet for this AU so have some chaotic bisexual idol energy. If you thought Zerith was gonna be the boring established relationship in this AU, hoo boy were you wrong. ~~OK they almost were, but this seems way more fun.~~
> 
> :D


End file.
